Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Kristin Lajeunesseis a longtime vegan, master of social media,
lifestyle and small business coach and all-around modern-day poster child for
turning your life into something that is aligned with your passions. With her
innovative Will Travel For Vegan Food project that began on her fifth veganniversary in
August, 2011, Kristin created the fantasy endeavor of so many wander-lusting
herbivores: she traveled the country in an extended road trip that took her to
48 states and 547 restaurants – more than 39,000 miles – to sample vegan food
from Alabama to Wyoming. Of course, no real
road trip is complete without difficulties, personal growth and sometimes
painful self-discoveries, all of which it sounds like Kristin received
extravagantly on the road from the description of her new memoir from Vegan Publishers. I have not read Will Travel for Vegan Food yet but it sounds like a great summer
read, maybe while renting a beach house in South Carolina. Or hiking through
Yosemite. Or backpacking through Europe. Or even from my own front porch. Kristin
is a role model of taking the road less traveled and creating a meaningful,
rich life along the way. For this reason and more, Kristin Lajeunesse is a
vegan rockstar to know.

1. First of all, we’d love to hear your “vegan
evolution” story. How did you start out? Did you have any early influences or
experiences as a young person that in retrospect helped to pave your path?

I
was 16 years old when my parents told me that they wanted to become vegetarian
as a family.

My brother Josh is five
years older than me and he introduced the idea of vegetarianism to my parents.
When they found out that he had already become vegetarian they were immediately
worried about his health, as they thought—at that time—that eating meat was
necessary for optimal nutrition. But instead of telling him why he was wrong or
shunning him entirely, they did what awesome parents do: they researched the
heck out of vegetarianism. I think they were looking for a way to prove to
him why this diet was bad, but instead they came to the undeniable conclusion
that not eating meat is a much better way to live.

So, there we were in
1999 transitioning to vegetarianism as a family. I wasn’t particularly
thrilled, but decided to give it a go.

I went off to college
and my parents kept up their research, joined a local vegetarian group and
continued to learn about the influence that diet has on health, the
environment, and animals.

Every time I came home
for a break or holiday there was something new and “healthy” in the
refrigerator—or worse, something missing. I still remember coming home one
summer to no more milk or cheese. It was gone and I was devastated: not the ice cream!

By the time I finished
college my parents were full-on vegan and I was still chowing down my beloved
dairy ice cream and cheese pizzas. Aside from the fact that I had
maintained a vegetarian diet, was eating vegan meals when visiting home, and
gifted vegan-labeled sweatshirts, stickers, and buttons whenever my parents
were given the opportunity, I couldn’t fathom giving up dairy. And then, in the
summer of 2006, at a veg event in upstate NY, the sea parted and in walked
Registered Dietitian, George Eisman. Despite the fact that my parents had at one
time or another gently provided the same information that Mr. Eisman presented
on this day, once I decided to listen and truly understand how very bad dairy
was for my body and for animals, I was done with it. That very night I ate my
last cheese pizza and never looked back. Well, I might have looked back once, or five times,
but never did go
back.

It took me a good year
as a relatively unhealthy vegan to start doing even more research—like learning
how to prepare meals instead of buying ready-made ones. But some new reading
material (hello VegNews Magazine) and a change in my environment (hey there, Boston) soon helped me
learn how to live a healthy vegan lifestyle.

In the fall of 2007 I
moved to Boston for graduate school. I joined the Boston Vegan Association and started working part-time for the New England Anti-Vivisection Society. The friends that I made in these two
organizations led me to so much support, inspiration, and so many new resources
that being vegan became a cinch. I love telling people who ask about my diet
how much more I
enjoy everything about food now; from shopping to cooking, prepping, and
purchasing a ridiculous number of vegan cook books. It feels like it has so
much more meaning now and I take pride in the meals I prepare. I never felt
this way as a meat eater…not even as a vegetarian for that matter.

Today my parents help
run the AlbanyVegan Network and
host an annual Vegan Expo (now in it’s seventh year!) in upstate New York.

It all started with my
brother, was followed by my parents’ amazing support, and then happily grew
into an education, a group of friends, and a lifestyle that I wouldn’t trade
for anything.

2.
Imagine that you are pre-vegan again: how could someone have talked to you and
what could they have said or shown you that could have been the most effective
way to have a positive influence on you moving toward veganism?

Oh gosh, this is a tough one as I've changed so much since
my pre-vegan days. I suppose I'd suggest that vegans around me be uplifting,
positive, and show the benefits of plant-based living through example and
gentle guidance. But only if I asked them to learn more. I wouldn't have done
well (and didn't do well) when the facts or ideals around veganism felt forced
or like I was being told I was wrong or bad for not being vegan. Lead by
positive example, is what I'd say.

3. What have you found to be the most effective way to communicate your message
as a vegan? For example, humor, passion, images, etc.?

There's something to be said for all forms of activism—which
is why there are so many groups with such a variety of ways for sharing their
messaging, even if it all kind of leads to the same place.

What comes most naturally to me is simply a show and tell kind of method. I
show yummy foods through pictures, share stories of my vegan related travel
adventures and then often get emails from people asking to learn more (either
about veganism or just places to eat when they're in a certain city).

Being authentic to how I'm comfortable sharing veganism, and how important I
think it is, being honest and open yet letting people come to me when they're
ready to learn more, seems to work best.

4. What do you think are the biggest strengths of
the vegan movement?

Within the movement: diversity in
messaging, an unspoken shared bond, community, and unending support. Outwardly,
one of the most important thing vegans can do to support the cause is to “vote”
with our dollars. Pay for the foods and clothing and other items that we
support and want to see more of.

5. What do you think are our biggest
hindrances to getting the word out effectively?

Sometimes there are pockets of us
who believe that there are wrong ways to promote veganism. So much so that they
become very outspoken against others who are doing the best from where they
are. I've seen this result in a sort of “in-fighting” in the community. If our
end goals are the same perhaps it's best to continue promoting veganism in the
individual ways we're comfortable with, as the more diversity in messaging, the
more people we'll reach. Not everyone will be moved by my pictures of food, but
maybe something that PETA does will speak to them. You just never know who is
listening and how they'll absorb a message.

6. All of us need a “why vegan” elevator pitch. We’d
love to hear yours.

For the animals, for the planet, and
for my health.

7. Who are the people and what are the books, films,
websites and organizations that have had the greatest influence on your
veganism and your continuing evolution?

8. Burn-out is so common among vegans: what do you
do to unwind, recharge and inspire yourself?

I
take ballroom dance lessons. It's the one thing I do that enables me to focus
solely on what my body is doing, and on absolutely nothing else at all.

9. What is the issue nearest and
dearest to your heart that you would like others to know more about?

I would like people to know that
traveling while eating only vegan foods is not only possible but fun and
exciting. I've built a project around the concept and truly believe that there
is so much joy in exploring other countries, or even just other parts of your
own country. Also, everyone should travel alone at least once in their life. I
talk in much detail about why, in my new memoir, Will Travel for Vegan Food. [insert shameless plug] :)

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

1. When you say that plants feel pain,
you are grasping at straws. You know that one YouTube video that defensive
meat-eaters post as incontrovertible proof that plants feel pain? The one where
it proves simply that plants respond to stimuli in order to maximize favorable
conditions and decrease unfavorable conditions just as any living thing would? Your
opinion that plants feel pain does
not merit equal consideration with the proven fact that animals feel pain as animals possess brains, central nervous
systems, pain receptors and a demonstrable fight-or-flight response, not plants, and stating so creates a specious false equivalency that we are somehow expected to accept. Claiming that plants
feel pain - an opinion - and that this is analogous to animals feeling pain - a
fact - brings to mind those who insist that creationism must be given equal
time to evolution in high school science curriculums. You’re allowed to have
your beliefs and your speculation but should they be given equal consideration
side-by-side with actual facts? Um, no.

2. When you say that your ancestry or
your ethnic background makes it necessary for you to eat animals, you are
grasping at straws. Your ancestors were meat-eaters? Well, what do you
know: so were mine. In fact, so were pretty much all of our ancestors with rare exception. The great thing about
evolution is, you know, a capacity to evolve. As someone whose ancestors were discriminated
against and largely wiped out due to their heritage, I find ethnicity to be a
very problematic source of personal pride or stable ground for anchoring
excuses.

3. When you say that you give thanks for
the animals you eat, you are grasping at straws. If you want to know how
patently absurd it is to think that we can erase a senseless act of violence by
“giving thanks,” I wonder what you’d think of it in different scenarios. “That arsonist
set fire to my house but before he did, he gave thanks, so I guess I don’t
really have anything to complain about.” “At first I was pretty bummed out I
was robbed at gunpoint but the thanks I was given by the robber made all that
unpleasantness disappear.” “My son was pushed out a window by his roommate but
it gave his roommate pleasure and, most important, his roommate gave thanks, so
I feel a sense of peace with everything.” I could go on and on. This reminds me
of that old thought experiment that asks if a tree falls in a forest but
there’s no one to hear it, does it still make a sound? Here we have the quasi-spiritual
meat-eater’s equivalent: if an animal’s life is taken but thanks was given, was
the animal still killed? Allow me to meditate on that for a moment: Yes.

4. When you try to justify eating
animals today because you were raised eating them, you are grasping at straws. Similar
to blaming your choices on your ethnic background, saying that you grew up
eating animals should be a no-brainer as almost all of us did but instead people
repeat this inanity as though it is something that confers onto them a Special Snowflake
status. In reality, I grew up eating meat. So did Robert Grillo. So did Carol Adams. So did Gene Baur. So did Colleen Patrick-Goudreau. So did Nathan Runkle. So did Melanie Joy. So did Alex Hershaft. So did Jenny Brown. So did Donald Watson, the
man who co-founded the first freaking Vegan Society. My point? Ancestry is not
destiny, thank goodness, and neither is personal history. I grew up on the
standard American diet of the 1970s, which meant bologna sandwiches, Kraft
singles and Hostess cupcakes; contrary to common assumptions, those who grow up
to be vegan were not necessarily raised by health-minded parents who prepared us
for our future lives with miso soup, mung beans and kale. Keep trying to work that angle,
though!

5. When you say that eating animals is
okay because vegans are big meanies, you are grasping at straws. You had a
roommate once who was vegan and, whoa, she was such a pill! Or your cousin was
vegan and so controlling. Or once you worked with a vegan and he was so
judgmental. Or you just had a negative experience with a vegan on Facebook when
you shared that bacon meme. These interactions might have led you to announce
with great flourish that you are going to go off and eat a big steak because that’ll
show those mean vegans. This is akin to telling an anti-domestic violence
activist that you are going to beat your partner because you have a bad
impression of him or her. It’s sad for the ones you’ve harmed but at the end of
the day, your actions are solely your responsibility. Trying to pin the
responsibility of your actions on someone else is admitting that you are not in
control of your own decisions.

6. When you use the fact that vegans
cannot be perfect as a justification for you to keep eating animals, you are
grasping at straws. Please have a seat. I have
to break some bad news to you. Are you ready? Okay. We live in an imperfect
world. A wildly messed up world, in fact. Vegans are actually trying to fix
this. Vegans aren’t saying, “Be like us. We’re perfect.” We’re saying that
despite this very flawed world, we are still doing to do our best to reduce
harm and keep it from, you know, getting worse. Yes, there is evidence of animal exploitation all around us, in
everything from bicycle tires to asphalt. Does the fact that vegans cannot be
perfect point to hypocrisy or simply the pervasiveness of animal agribusiness
and their profiting off of every last bit extracted from an animal’s corpse? I’m thinking
the latter. Any guess who is actually trying to change the status quo
altogether? That would be the vegans.

7. When you say that it’s your personal choice
to eat animals, you are grasping at straws. Saying that eating animals is your “personal choice” while not
acknowledging the senseless violence against those with no personal choices to exercise
for themselves – and endure things like forcible impregnations, stolen babies,
mutilations, and a short, misery-laden lifetime of confinement – is the ultimate in myopia. It
shows what a poor grasp you have on the practice of extending empathy to others
and it’s not a good look.

8. When you say that there are bigger issues to worry about, you are
grasping at straws.
Can you name one change we could all adopt that would have a positive,
wide-ranging effect on world hunger, water scarcity, water pollution, land use,
climate change, worker exploitation and the well-being of billions of sentient lives in one fell swoop? This is by no means
an exhaustive list, either. Going vegan is the best bang for your buck in terms
of a ripple effect of creating positive, meaningful and lasting change. What
were you saying again?
9. When you say that you only eat “humane meat/animal products,” you are grasping
at straws. 1. Vegans don’t believe that such items can be humanely acquired
so we are already at an impasse. 2. Anyone who has researched the
industries with an open and rational mind would also not believe this. 3. You really don’t exclusively eat
these products, either, unless you don’t ever dine out at places that don’t
meet your exacting standards. 4. How is it that a niche market that actually
serves a very small percentage of the market somehow also reflects the
purchasing habits 99% of defensive meat-eaters? 5. Welcome to the mystical fantasyland
that is Magical Thinking, where free-range unicorns knowingly (and painlessly) sacrifice
themselves for our palates. It looks like you have your passport ready! 6. Did you remember to give thanks?

10. Saying that vegans eat “fake foods”
is grasping at straws. We eat vegetables, fruits, grains, legumes, nuts,
seeds and spices. The animals people eat have heads, bones, feathers,
appendages, gills, organs and more removed; they have been artificially (and forcibly)
impregnated, they’ve been mutilated, castrated, and selectively bred and
manipulated for production. Please don’t try to pull this card on us unless you
are prepared to hear about how “naturally produced” the things you eat are.

We get that you don’t like being wrong. We get that you’re feeling defensive. We get
that this pisses you off. Still, you've got to improve your game, people. You being uncomfortable with accepting the
consequences of your actions is not our fault. If grasping at straws had made
you feel like a fraud, maybe it’s time to accept the truth: there is no
justification for being complicit in another’s needless death. Whether knowing this
inspires you to embrace veganism or simply stop engaging in logical fallacies
is up to you.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Amy-Lee Goodman is a zesty former
Texan who is making waves by sharing her knowledge and take-no-prisoners attitude
about the animal agribusiness industry with two recent books, Rethink Food: 100+ Doctors Can’t Be Wrong and her newly published The Meaty Truth: Why Our Food is Destroying Our Health and Environment – and Who is Responsible,
both co-authored with Shushana Castle. As someone who personally saw her teen
sister’s once crippling rheumatoid arthritis go into remission once her mother implemented
the plant-based diet recommended in T. Colin Campbell’s landmark book, The China Study, Amy-Lee has dedicated her
life to letting the world know about the myriad benefits of veganism as well as
the shocking – but all too real – consequences of animal agribusiness to our
health, the environment and billions of animals’ lives. For this reason and
more, Amy-Lee Goodman is a vegan rockstar worth knowing.

1. First of
all, we’d love to hear your “vegan evolution” story. How did you start out? Did
you have any early influences or experiences as a young person that in
retrospect helped to pave your path?

My vegan evolution was greatly
impacted by my family as well as influenced by the ethical, health and
environmental reasons to take meat and dairy off my plate.

I grew up as a meat and potatoes
girl in Texas. My freshman year of college though I had watched Meet your Meat
and couple of other videos and I called my mom crying about piglets I had just
seen that were stomped on in a slaughterhouse. Once you see that kind of
cruelty, there is no way I could consciously eat meat or dairy again.

At the same time, I witnessed how my
younger sister’s health was dramatically impacted by going vegan. My sister was
diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis at the young age of 9 and became a
skeleton of her former vivacious self. Living on medication, my mom read The China Study by Dr. T. Colin Campbell whose research showed how meat and dairy can
contribute to autoimmune conditions. Within three months of taking my sister
off all animal products, her arthritis had completely gone into remission. It
was eye-opening.

I became so passionate about this
subject that I started further research factory farming and discovered how
unsustainable it is for our planet. The choice for me and my family, who
evolved at the same time, was simple.
2. Imagine that you are pre-vegan again: how could someone have talked to you
and what could they have said or shown you that could have been the most
effective way to have a positive influence on you moving toward veganism?

For me, seeing the visual images of
how these animals are treated was much more powerful than hearing about the
cruelty. I had no idea what went on behind the closed doors of factory farms,
or even what went into making clothes. The sad truth is most of us would rather
not think about what we are eating or wearing. It is easy to disassociate the
grilled chicken breast on our plate or the Italian leather shoes from the
actual animal. Seeing the pictures though and having to look those animals in
the eye that we consider dinner or a fashion trend is harder to justify.

Additionally hearing patient stories
from those that have turned around their health, to the disgusting ingredients
in our food were both turning points for me. For example, discovering that
there is pus in dairy is beyond disgusting. Why would I consciously choose to
drink that?!
3. What have you found to be the most effective way to communicate your message
as a vegan? For example, humor, passion, images, etc.?

Coming from an educational and
non-judgmental standpoint is a great way to get through to others. I did not
grow up vegan and therefore I don’t believe in judging and shaming others who
have not been informed. Instead, I choose to approach them with the same
compassion we show the animals by encouraging even small changes and showing
them how much fun it is to be vegan!

I also choose to win over hearts and
minds through food. I love taking my friends to restaurants that open their
eyes to the breadth of delicious food available to them. Cooking an amazing
meal with my girlfriends is an easy way to show them just how easy it to be
vegan and dispel the myth about how intimidating it can be to shop or cook
differently.

When it comes to hard-hitting facts,
I don’t shy away from the truth but adding a little humor never fails to make
an impression. This was our approach in The
Meaty Truth. To be straightforward and blunt but also add a little sass to
keep the reader informed. We also included daily actions steps as we don’t
believe in perfection but in progress.

4. What do
you think are the biggest strengths of the vegan movement?

The biggest strength of the vegan movement is the passion that these amazing
individuals have to push the movement forward. The greatest asset is we do have
undeniable facts and images that we can use to advocate for change. I truly
believe that most people at their core are good people and they wouldn’t
unknowingly participate in practices that harm such beautiful beings.

5. What do you think are our biggest hindrances to getting the word out
effectively?

The issues I see are one of division and losing
sight of the larger goal. We need to better appreciate that each organization
has their own path and message and we should value the steps they are taking
towards a healthier and cruelty-free society rather than bringing them down. So
many of us tend to focus on what someone isn’t doing rather than what they are
doing. This is hurting us as separately we can't make the change we need, but
we can by choosing to work together.

6. All of us
need a “why vegan” elevator pitch. We’d love to hear yours.

Veganism for many can seem like a foreign
concept or a hippie fad. But there have been so many times in society where we
have looked at progress with scorn from slavery to women's rights. Deciding
that it's not okay to treat other creatures with harm and that it is disastrous
for our health to eat animals is the next social movement. We
have one earth, one body, and we are all interconnected. We spend so much time
investing in our careers and very little investing in our bodies or thinking
about the consequences of our actions.

I believe we have a choice everyday to choose
the type of world we want to live in and leave for the next generation.Being vegan
is an answer to a more compassionate, healthy and happy life.

7. Who are
the people and what are the books, films, websites and organizations that have
had the greatest influence on your veganism and your continuing evolution?

My mom is my greatest vegan
inspiration. She is the most beautiful soul I know and the
most amazing voice for the animals. It is inspiring to see how many animals’
lives she has changed as well as how many people’s lives she has impacted by
helping them go vegan. She is my hero.

8. Burn-out
is so common among vegans: what do you do to unwind, recharge and inspire
yourself?

It’s so important to remember just
how beautiful life is, especially when one can see so much misery working to
make changes. I love to run outdoors, read fiction or inspirational books,
cuddle with my kitties (I have two!), bake delicious vegan treats and take time
out to disconnect from technology and reconnect with myself.

9. What is the issue nearest and dearest to your heart that
you would like others to know more about?

Factory
farming is the issue most dear to my heart that I am working to change. It is
not only one of the most horrific businesses but also one of the most damaging
businesses to our health and our environment. Factory farming need not ever
exist and it is one place where I believe there is so much hope for change as
the public becomes educated about the faces behind their food choices. Most people find factory farming conditions deplorable once they learn the truth. I believe this public pressure could help in shutting down these factory doors forever.

10. Please finish this sentence: “To me, being vegan is...”

Not about
being perfect but about doing my part to make a sweeter world.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

When my son was born nearly 13 years ago, I capped nine months of perfect
health with a complicated and stressful delivery that couldn’t have been more
opposite from my idyllic pregnancy. My son was born after 52 hours of really
trying to make it happen, the first 48 of them without intervention; it turned
out that despite my detailed birth plan, my team of midwives (each one had a
shift with me, my delivery was so maddeningly long) and two loved ones cheering
me on at my bedside, it was just not going to happen how I’d envisioned it.

There
was no music from home. There was no birthing tub. There was no “Okay, now…push!” moment as my team huddled around
me. After all those hours of labor, most of them stuck in a transitional labor
that pretty much made me want to break my husband’s hand as he tried to comfort
me, I finally said uncle. I waved the white flag and I was wheeled into
obstetric surgery. At this point, I just wanted my baby; I didn’t need to
impress anyone anymore with my exemplary birthing story anymore. I wanted to go
home.

In
what felt like a matter of minutes after being wheeled in, the surgical team
cheered: It’s a boy! I finally had my movie moment. “This is why your delivery
couldn’t progress,” the surgeon said. “Your umbilical cord was too short. I’ve
seen short ones before but this is really short, like eight inches.” My son was
suspended; he couldn’t move despite my uterus contracting, my organs trying to push
him down the canal. He was passed to me, my beautiful, perfect baby, red-faced
from trying so damn hard. “He looks just like you,” said the anesthesiologist. After about 30 seconds, my son was taken from me.

Our son had aspirated meconium (baby’s first poop) in the womb and when that
happens, respiration can be compromised. His breathing was labored as is common
when meconium is is found in the water. My son was rushed away from us,
suctioned, incubated and intubated. All the years I’d spent imagining this rapturous
moment collapsed with a jarring clang as I was wheeled to my room, crying,
sleep-deprived, drugged, probably babbling incomprehensibly and without my long-awaited
baby in my arms.

The next
couple of days were a blur of my husband wielding phone calls, visitors who
were trying really hard to be cheerful and a doctor who said two words that shook
me to my core, that I probably have etched inside me somewhere: my son was
“very sick” and needed to be transferred to Children’s Memorial Hospital, 35
minutes away, to receive special care. Very
sick, she said. Very sick. Sick. Very. These two words rattled around my
head and knocked against each other like marbles. My idyllic pregnancy had
taken a very wrong turn.

Every day, we’d visit my son at the hospital and I’d tentatively hold his little
body. I felt like a failure and also like I’d just lost a cage match with
Freddy Krueger, I was in so much pain. Every shallow breath was excruciating. It
didn’t take long in the neo-natal unit to turn my attitude around, though: we
were, in fact, very, very lucky. My
son was full-term, unlike most of the patients there. He had all of his organs intact
and his lungs were improving every day. His scores were excellent. He didn’t
have a disease. He didn’t have cancer. He was strong and getting stronger every
day. Unlike so many babies and children there, our setback was temporary and a
very minor hiccup at that. If he hadn’t been born at this time of human history
and in this developed nation, we likely would have both died in childbirth
because of nothing other than a rare biological fluke that couldn’t have been
prevented.

Each day as I shuffled through the huge hospital, stopping at every bench to
catch my breath and gather my strength, I noticed parents who mostly were
facing down a much different scenario with their children. I began to recognize
the dark circles under their eyes, their faces drained of color - days without sunshine,
sitting at bedsides, talking to specialists, getting test results, having difficult
conversations on the phone – sometimes smiling, sometimes holding hands, their
knuckles strained. We were at the hospital to see our healthy, full-term baby
who would be released to us in less than a week. This was all that I needed to
see. We were beyond lucky, the three of us.

At home finally, my son and I worked out the kinks with nursing and made up for
lost time. We would lie in bed, me recovering from surgery, my son from his
difficult birth, and be in synch with each other, flesh against flesh that
whole beautiful summer. I couldn’t touch his silky skin enough. He was here. Staring at my
son, though, I was aware of a sadness that also tore at my edges, frayed as
they were already from my difficult delivery. I couldn’t help but think of the
other mothers who were not so lucky. I would be enjoying my son, marveling that
my body, battle-scarred as it was, could provide his sustenance and then,
suddenly, I’d feel a wave of such deep grief it felt like I could get pulled
away in a riptide of sheer sorrow. What was the matter with me? It
took me a while to realize that it was my body’s way of acknowledging how many
other mothers and babies are denied the good fortune that we had. I felt loss for the mothers
with babies born into violence and famine. For the mothers with sick babies
that they could not help. For the mothers who would never be able to feed and
comfort their babies as they should. For the babies not as fortunate as my own.
I grieved for those mothers and babies, human and otherwise, who would never be
able to enjoy what I was enjoying with my son at my side, nurtured, protected
and loved, every inch of him mentally catalogued like he was a miracle. Before I even had my son, I was asked again and again, “Well, you’re not going to raise him vegan, though, are you?” In fact, lying with my son as he nursed, I don’t know if I'd ever so certain about anything. The mothers with babies torn apart by war or other cruel systems haunted me. The mother cows and pigs who would never know their babies; the mothers and babies in war zones, denied the right to be together safely and comfortably at home with the windows open in the summer. I couldn’t do something for every mother and baby but I could do something for some by not aiding and abetting a barbaric system that I could easily avoid.

The
first thing that I learned after becoming a mother is that not everything
always goes according to plan. The second thing I learned is that once you
become a mother, part of your heart lives outside of your body, which makes us profoundly
vulnerable. How could we be indifferent to that vulnerability once we know? I
was never stronger with my commitment to veganism than after I had a baby. I
was a mother now, too.